" Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you" -Matthew 28:19
Richard Twiss was a Lakota Sioux from the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in Rosebud South Dakota. On a January afternoon in Anchorage Alaska, Richard Twiss picked me up hitchhiking. He picked me up while he was on his delivery route delivering bread to various Anchorage stores. Richard wasn't driving some shiny company delivery truck but an old rather beat up looking one. The labels on the bread looked homemade. He told me the name of the bakery was The Bread of Life and it was located in Wasilla Alaska, about 40 miles from Anchorage..
We hit it off with his stories of his involvement with the American Indian Movement ,spiritual journeys and trips on LSD . He then told me he met Jesus while on an acid trip and the bread we were delivering was helping to support a community of people in Wasilla that were similar to us but who had also turned their lives to Jesus. He then invited me to visit.
I had nothing to lose by visiting. By this point I had dropped out of college as for the first time since I set out as my goal to run for President I was questioning my direction in life. I became less optimistic about politics being a vehicle for change after witnessing Watergate and the release of the Pentagon Papers. The release of those papers involved Alaska Senator Mike Gravel who I served as a liaison for student issues during my time at AMU. Saw how the Federal Government can be in the case of a classmate who was a Vietnam War draft resister and I didn't like what I was seeing.. Besides at this point I had become quite the pothead and I felt that alone once word of that got out would block my road to the White House In addition just days before a roommate going through a hard time had pointed a gun to my head. Cabin Fever is real
The Farm or the Lord's Land as some called it was located miles away from anything remotely resembling a city . The setup at the farm was part stuff that would have made any 'Back to the Land Hippie" proud. In addition to the bakery they had a small storefront where those that did drop by could buy its products. There was acres of land for gardening in the summer. I had a conversation with a resident over a piece of grilled moose steak as Fish and Game would call the farm whenever there was a moose kill on the road. They had chickens and pigs in a barn. It was very self sufficient and in doing so it was very such back to the land like and very independent Alaskan at the same time.
The worship services of this group was a contrast to the staid Methodist church services I grew up in. There were no suits and ties here rather long haired men in flannel shirts and blue jeans and women in long granny dresses. No solemn hymn singing led by an organ either. Instead there was acoustic guitars and tambourines. The emotions expressed leaned closer to the Black Church experiences of my grandparents.. Throughout the services there were pleas for me to "Come to Jesus" not only telling me about the riches in heaven, the warnings of hell and such but the necessity to forsake all and become a "disciple"
2 days later Richard was driving me back to my apartment in Anchorage to pick up my stuff. I was forsaking it all and becoming a disciple.
I remained at the Farm for 2 years. There were aspects of "forsaking it all" that were difficult, losing old friends, limited contact with parents, the banning of all secular books and music however there were elements I enjoyed. There was a strong sense of community, I had a roof over my head staying in the "single brothers"cabin, There was food to eat. Clothes were provided for and I had jobs both in the bakery and as the only male assigned with the nursery and pre school kids. I liked that jobs were assigned based on a person's gifts and abilities. We received a $3 weekly allowance which hardly got spent because there wasnt much on the outside we were allowed to do., Many of our meals were "Alaskan"..moose bear and salmon At the same time homesickness was beginning to creep in and there was still a tiny bit of doubt in my mind as to whether I was doing the right thing.My primary purpose in going to Alaska was gone now. The Farm was part of a larger group called Gospel Outreach which had affiliate churches around the country. One of the churches was located in Brooklyn New York. Because it was close to home I figured could visit and even return home if I deemed it necessary . I told the "elders" I felt called to go to New York. Soon "elders" and other members of the Farm laid hands on me in prayer and I was off to New York.
The Park Slope neighborhood in Brooklyn now is a very upscale and gentrified neighborhood . It was far from being gentrified in the mid 70's and the contrasts between life on an Alaskan farm and the "hood" couldn't be more extreme. . My first week in New York I left the door to the car I was given stewardship to unlocked. It was stolen. I also left the door to the "Shepherds House" unlocked. It was ransacked. Luckily there wasn't much of anything worth stealing as no one had much more than old clothing. Allowance in New York went up from $3 to $5 and even though the New York affiliate "allowed" us to do more than at the Farm,$5 dollars wasn't going to go very far in New York. I would save my allowances to attend New York Mets baseball games.
It was one thing not being of "this world' living in the isolation of Alaska. Everything about the world living in New York was loud and in your face. The Gospel Outreach (or G.O. as we called it) run Shepherds House and Sterling Place communal homes were brownstones next to and across the streets from neighbors..Women worked at a church run housecleaning business and I with the rest of the men worked at the church run New Life Vinyl Repair Company where we'd go to various car dealerships repairing torn vinyl and leather car seats. The corner store where we'd buy snacks was also a front for illegal gambling activities. I had never heard of disco before landing in New York only to discover I had landed in the epicenter of the disco world. Disco tunes were heard everywhere from stereo speakers our neighbors would place outside their windows to the car dealerships we worked at. In a world of polyester short hair and fancy dress, the mostly white hippie like members of G.O. looked highly out of place in this predominately Black and Puerto Rican Park Slope neighborhood.
This was an interesting time in the history of New York to be living in the city. During the time I lived in New York I experienced the city going bankrupt, garbage strikes, an OPEC oil embargo leaving NYC drivers with long lines at gas stations and gas rationing, Son of Sam and a blackout plunging New York into 2 days of darkness and mayhem
It was in New York where serious questioning about my involvement with G.O. began. I was terrible at my job at New Life Vinyl Repair. Almost daily I'd be yelled at by some boisterous New York car salesman for poor work. I ruined cars, once ruining the Mercedes Benz of New York Yankees star Reggie Jackson. I seldom reached the daily quotas set for me. At most other jobs I would have been fired within a week of starting but working this GO run job was seen as another way being in but not of this world. I saw the constant failure as a sign that perhaps God wanted me to do something else. I befriended a man who lived across the street from our house and would attend our services. I learned he did not know how to read and though he was my age he had never as much as taken the subway outside of Brooklyn. I thought perhaps I'd be of better service by finishing my degree and becoming a teacher or social worker. I once made a proposal to the church elders to where I'd attend an Evangelical college to accomplish that end.. In G.O. however ,the belief was because Jesus was a carpenter the job of a disciple one was to work with one's hands. To use one's mind was highly suspicious at best. One elder told me once that "God is using this vinyl repair experience to humble you otherwise I could see you reciting poetry in some Bohemian coffee shop"
At least working that job meant I was driving from one dealership to another during that time if someone wasnt assigned to work with me I'd turn on the radio. Some days it would be the news stations like WINS . I'd listen to the talk station WMCA and yes I'd bounce around the dial to the various music stations on the AM and FM dials. On Saturdays when I wasn't working I'd go to the Prospect Park Library to read "forbidden books"and chat with various people outside of the library who were promoting various causes and ideas. I'd tear out postcards from various college so that information would be sent to my mother's house. She was happy to see I was willing to entertain the thought of leaving the group. I was giving thought..at the same time I saw and heard of several disasters occurring with people who did leave. If one left 1. One had better hope that you had other skills besides vinyl repair because New Life had a monopoly on car dealerships throughout NYC and Long Island and 2. One had to have a place to go where money wasnt expected right away. You didn't have bank accounts at GO and you'd leave with whatever allowance you may have saved. The stories however correlated with many of the teachings that spoke of woe when straying from God's path.
I knew I needed to get out of New York before I knew I needed to leave GO and the opportunity arose when it was announced that GO would be establishing a church in Denver Colorado. I had been to Denver previously. I have relatives living in Denver. I also knew Denver and Colorado to still have some of that Western spirit I'd read about and watch movies about as a kid. One could see the Rocky Mountains from Denver. In many ways Denver seemed like the happy medium between what I lived and prepared for with life in Alaska and the more urban. I also knew in the back of my mind that while I would be moving away from close proximity to my mom that she was close with my relatives in Denver and should I decide to leave GO my relatives there were the best next refuge to my mother.
It took a few years still but the end of my time with G.O. did come in Denver. By the time the church arrived in Denver things within the church felt vastly different even from the time I met Richard Twiss in Alaska but I was also realizing I was different. My time in GO allowed me to open up to a life in the Spirit but for me it was becoming increasingly difficult to confine spirit to the narrow confines I was living under. I was giving greater appreciation to the mind God had given me and I was enjoying exercising it in the books I was continuing to read, the people I was encountering now that we were freed from having to work at GO owned businesses.as well as the experiences I was allowing myself to experience. Where I was going in life and where GO was a clash was inevitable. When the end happened the title to the car I had been given stewardship of by G.O. was transferred to me.
I spent 8 years in Gospel Outreach. There were ramifications from those years Within those 8 years my mom passed away. With her death any chance of starting over with virtually nothing also passed. After throwing away scholarships and a promising political career for living with a bunch of Jesus Freaks there was no way my Dad was going to trust my judgement. With applying for work it was difficult to explain my past 8 years.. What? 3 dollars a week?? vinyl repair?? a single male babysitter? It was just as difficult making personal connections now that I was estranged from a community. "Jesus?? Get away from me!" "You lived in a commune? Did you have orgies?" "You mean you NEVER saw John Belushi on Saturday Night Live?" I knew I had entered a whole new world viewing a music video on a community TV network. It was Devo's "Whip It" There was a movie out during that time called "Brother From Another Planet" I felt I was the Brother from Another Planet.
The first person who didnt run away from my weirdness and alienation was a woman named Myrenna Brakhage daughter of the avant garde filmmaker Stan Brakhage. Soon after meeting we had a child. Her name is Rose
Richard Twiss https://www.oregonlive.com/clark-county/2013/03/life_story_richard_twiss_pasto.html
Gospel Outreach https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gospel_Outreach_(Humboldt)
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